ShadowsintheMist

by Maureen McMahon

  “How is it that I’m the last to know?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t think anyone meant to exclude you. You were away and Colin found out from some source connected with the law firm holding Leo’s will. We all thought it was heartless of him to check on such a thing right after finding Leo dead but well…you know Colin.

  “Grant followed it up and I’d say he wasn’t too pleased with what he found. I think he wanted to make sure it was all valid before putting any additional burden on you.”

  I added one more resentment to the list I was accumulating against Grant Fenton. Giles rubbed his chin.

  “You know, Suzanna, your father was my very good friend. I’ve known him since long before you were born. I’m sure you must be feeling a great deal of anger toward him right now but I think I can almost understand why he did what he did.”

  I listened, feeling little more than apathy.

  “He wasn’t always so ruthless. You must appreciate what it did to him to watch his whole family die of an influenza epidemic just because they couldn’t afford a doctor. He was very young then and grew up blaming himself and the society he lived in—the rich getting richer and the poor… Well…”

  I knew the story already. Leo’s family had migrated from Greece for a better life when Leo was only a baby. After their tragic death, Leo worked hard as a manual laborer on the Chicago docks for a small company owned by a fellow Greek immigrant named Dimitri Agropolis. Using his wits and charm, he was able to manipulate his way up the ladder and eventually managed to snatch the ultimate prize, Agropolis’ only daughter, Carmen. Colin was born a short nine months after their wedding. Six months later, Dimitri died of a stroke, leaving Leo the business.

  There were rumors Leo engaged in dealings with the mob in those early years. No one knew for sure but the company certainly prospered under his boundless ambition and soon he took over three other struggling shipping firms and combined them all to create Dirkston Shipping. Later, when the company grew and sprouted subsidiaries, the conglomerate was renamed Dirkston Enterprises.

  Carmen turned a blind eye to most of Leo’s dealings. I suspected this was out of self-preservation. She realized her marriage was a mistake but pride and a certain amount of greed kept her from abandoning it. Instead, she turned her frustrated affections on Colin, smothering him with attention.

  Beacon was a dream long before it became a reality. Colin was two years old before the architects were hired and construction begun. The construction took almost three years.

  It was assumed Leo fell in love with my mother, Anna Kempton, Colin’s governess, right under Carmen’s nose. I still find it hard to believe my father could be capable of such cruelty to his wife but Giles assured me Carmen was indiscreet in her own illicit affairs long before Leo strayed.

  The day they were to move to Beacon, there was a vicious argument. At the end of it, Carmen lay at the bottom of the stairs, her neck broken. There was speculation Leo pushed her but he maintained she lost her footing and fell. A cursory investigation proved little and the incident was deemed an accident. Soon after, Leo, Colin and Anna moved into Beacon, where, after a barely discreet interval, Anna and Leo were quietly married. I was born a year later and became Leo’s pet.

  “Your mother, Suzanna, was very good for Leo,” Giles continued. “She was a delicate, shy little thing who depended on him for everything. Leo loved her like no one else. I think it was she who helped him find a heart. Before Anna, he was a cold and ruthless person.” He glanced at me, noting my frown. “No, I don’t believe he killed her. If Carmen was going to push him to the point of murder, it would’ve happened long before then.”

  He grimaced, then bent over to pick up a smooth, pearly stone, turning it over between his fingers. “I witnessed a few of her tantrums. She could be malicious, even using Colin as leverage against him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Giles tossed the stone out into the surf. “It’s not important. I just wanted you to know your father changed after he found Anna and he never lost that goodness. When your mother died, I thought he’d go to pieces.”

  “I remember,” I murmured.

  It was a silly accident. Mother was never the superb equestrian Leo was. They went out riding together one morning while I stayed behind under Martha’s supervision. I was playing in the sand on the beach, building my own scale model of Beacon, when I looked up to see Leo carrying my mother’s limp body in his arms. I remember he was crying and I knew she was dead. It was a painful memory.

  I loved my mother but her love for Leo was so intense there was little room for anyone else. I missed her when she was gone but grieved for Leo even more. He began to drink and Giles, the only person he allowed near, sat with him for hours, afraid to leave him alone. It was arranged that Colin and I should attend boarding schools. What else could be done? Leo was certainly unable to take up our rearing on his own in his state of mind.

  “I think the only thing that saved your father in the end, Suzanna, was the realization you still needed him. The fact that you were a part of Anna and a product of their love for each other became his lifeline and gave him the will to go on.”

  I winced, remembering the naked hurt in Leo’s eyes when I turned down his offer to help with my writing career.

  “This will is a product of Leo’s need to secure your future and what he thought would ensure your happiness,” Giles continued.

  “How could he possibly believe that forcing me to marry Grant would make me happy?” I demanded. “Especially when he knew Grant and I barely get along as it is. I wonder if he understood me at all, or if I was just another pawn in his game?” Grant’s words, spoken from my lips! It grated to believe they could be true.

  I didn’t want to believe that Leo could be so heartless but there was no other way to describe it. Deep down, I sensed there was a Leo Dirkston I never knew—an entity quite different from the father figure he presented to me. Someone who’d accept help from criminals or take over small businesses with no thought for the struggling individuals he was ruining. Worst of all, someone who could, without scruples, use a woman’s love as a stepping stone to power.

  Giles touched my arm with sympathy. “I know it’s hard for you to understand but just remember, Leo loved you more than anything on this earth. In his day, marriages were arranged as a matter of course and children were content to have the decision taken out of their hands. He would never do anything he thought might hurt you. He did what he felt was best for you.”

  I didn’t reply. Nothing anyone could say would diminish my sense of betrayal and disillusionment.

  “Don’t try to solve anything right now, my dear. You’re tired and I’m sure things will look clearer in the morning. Let’s go back now. It’s getting late.”

  I said goodbye to him on the beach and thanked him for trying to help. “You’re right about one thing,” I admitted. “I am tired.”

  He nodded. “Just keep in mind that Leo might’ve been stubborn, selfish and bullheaded but he rarely made rash decisions. Perhaps you shouldn’t be too quick to denounce this arrangement.”

  I gritted my teeth. Marry Grant? The idea was preposterous! It seemed ridiculous that Giles, of all people, should encourage it. He was David’s father, for heaven’s sake and only a few short weeks ago my prospective father-in-law.

  To avoid further discussion, however, I said I’d consider the matter. This seemed to satisfy him and he patted my hand affectionately and jogged off down the sandy expanse toward Spindrift.

  I stood briefly at the base of the steep rise of log steps that led up from the beach and savored the crisp, early-autumn air, heavy with the tang of decomposing seaweed and fish, wet sand and spray. There was no use brooding tonight. My mind was too weary to tackle much of anything.

  I turned and began to climb, remembering each step as if I were ten years old again. Now, however, my legs felt heavy and the energy that once saw me fly up and down with agility deserted me. I vowed
to try to get back into shape.

  When I reached the top of the ridge, I glanced back over my shoulder at the darkening sky. The moon was already rising despite the fading glow of sunset. It hovered like a slim ivory pendant above the lighthouse, cold and distant, yet exquisite. I sighed. How I longed to be able to stand aside and view the whole sordid situation without bias or emotion. I was too involved—too close—to see it as simple, the way Giles seemed able to do.

  I trudged up the narrow path that wound through the rippling razor grass and tangled, low-growing shrubs at the top of the cliff. Short, delicate catkins raised their furry golden heads and danced in the breeze. The shifting sand gave way to a darker, harder earth where briar bushes had taken root and intertwined to form a formidable barrier along the base of the iron fence, marking the rear boundary of Beacon’s rolling grounds.

  Grasshoppers and crickets whirred and chirruped from their prickly hideouts, their voices rising in a unified crescendo over the clacking reeds and the mournful shriek of a gull. The wind lifted my hair and brushed my temple. I stood with my hand on the gate, loath to enter the structured world beyond. But, it was no use balking and with grim conviction, I pushed through and strode across a vast expanse of meticulously manicured lawns to the rear gardens.

  As with everything at Beacon, these gardens were magnificent though strangely out of place with their distinctly European flavor. Gravel walkways edged in brick meandered and criss-crossed, lined on both sides by blocked and trimmed evergreen hedges rising to almost six feet and serving as a windbreak against the raw weather that swept in off the lake. At corners where the paths intersected, the hedges were clipped into spheres at the top to resemble corner-posts. Leo had imported a topiary expert from Rome to sculpt them and I was grateful that in this one area he hadn’t gone overboard.

  The paths themselves met in miniature roundabouts—circling flowerbeds thick with marigolds, asters, zinnias, lavender and roses. The flowers were updated at the start of each season so, except during the frigid winter months, there were blooms all year. Grotesque porcelain gnomes squatted here and there below ivory birdbaths and somewhere nearer the house, a miniature statue of Apollo posed above a small round lily pond where Leo’s cat, King Kong, loved to idle away the afternoons batting at goldfish.

  Leo had painstakingly imported truckloads of dark loamy earth from further inland to enrich the otherwise sandy soil and an army of landscape artists from all over the world were given free rein in designing it. Now the grounds were tended by Rudy Coleman, a reclusive spindle of a man who lived above the old stables.

  Rudy was hired as stableman when Leo purchased his first prized stallion. The stables were to the east of the main estate, on the edge of the forest, with a good acre of untended pastureland between them and the main house. After Anna’s accident, Leo sold all the horses and refused to acknowledge the existence of the stables. Rudy, however, remained and became our permanent gardener and general maintenance man, showing a surprising aptitude for both.

  I followed the paths, knowing well the way through the puzzle of greenery. It hadn’t always been so and I could remember wandering, teary-eyed, for what seemed hours before being rescued by Martha. Now I wandered absently, knowing the gazebo lay just ahead. It stood in the center of Leo’s lavish garden, a miniature Gothic temple with a domed roof and six slim ivory pillars. I mounted the steps, sat down on one of the stone benches that joined the pillars and pulled my knees up to my chin, allowing my thoughts to wander.

  It was cool and dark. A circle of mock orange and lilac crowned the grassy knoll surrounding the building and cast clenched shadows across the cold floor. The winds were strong, still balmy and heavy with the excesses of honeyed pollen and overripe fruit and the thick, cloying smell of full-blown roses.

  I leaned my head back against the stone and gazed over the hedges toward the darkening horizon. Grant’s face filled my mind and I wondered, before closing my eyes, what marriage to such a man would be like.

  Chapter Three

  My care is like my shadow in the sun,

  Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,

  Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.

  Elizabeth I, On Monsieur’s Departure

  I can’t be sure how long I slept. The moon was high in a blue-black sky and Venus shone brilliantly in its usual place below. Lightning bugs flickered on and off and crickets chirped in rhythm, undisturbed by my presence. I shivered, uncurled my legs from their cramped position and swatted at a mosquito as it whined near my ear. I had to go back. Everyone would be wondering where I was.

  It was then I heard the voices drifting softly on the night air. I listened with halfhearted curiosity. The murmuring came from some spot beyond the bushes and hedges, nearer the house. I could make out Alicia’s unmistakable tones but the other voice was muffled and I turned my head in that direction, my interest piqued.

  “Of course it’s impossible, darling,” Alicia was saying in a transparent whine. “Leo was a tyrant! Besides, she’d never make you happy.”

  It was Grant’s impatient voice that answered. “That’s the least of my concerns. The problem now is how to accomplish this charade without anyone getting hurt.”

  I caught my breath as I realized they were talking about me.

  “You don’t plan to go through with it, do you?” She dropped her stage drawl and seemed genuinely agitated.

  “There’s nothing else to do. If I explain it to her, I’m sure she’ll understand. You should be the last one to object, considering Colin will stand to lose the most if we don’t go through with it.”

  “I don’t care! I couldn’t stand to see you with her!”

  “Alicia,” Grant’s voice was exasperated, “what I do with Suzanna has nothing to do with you. And whether you could ‘bear’ it or not is really irrelevant to me!”

  “Oh, Grant!” She was pouting again. “Don’t say such things. You know how I feel.”

  He gave a cold snort. “Cut the act, Alicia. I know exactly how you feel and I also know what you’re doing. Does Colin know about your little games? Or are you playing them for someone else’s benefit? One of these days, you’ll push him too far and you’ll be out on your ear.”

  She chose to ignore the warning for when she spoke again, her voice was low and inviting. “Let’s go to the gazebo—for old time’s sake!”

  “Alicia—” he began but she interrupted and her voice was almost a whisper. I shuddered, imagining her coaxing fingers stroking his shirtfront.

  I chose the momentary lapse in conversation to hurry from my hiding place. I didn’t want to hear any more. I was sickened by the inferences of the conversation and stunned Grant would consider trying to talk me into going along with a farcical marriage. It seemed they were all playing games and my father was the mastermind behind them all. I wondered if Leo knew about Alicia’s involvement with Grant. Now, I could understand why Colin was so remote. Alicia too transparent to hide her flirtations, seemed to savor the excitement of a juicy scandal, especially when she was in the spotlight. My already shaky respect for Grant plummeted. It made me ill to think he could give in to her shallow seductions.

  I hurried through the darkened paths and came out on the sweep of lawn at the other side of the garden. The grass was soft underfoot and damp from the automatic sprinklers, just turned off. I didn’t glance back toward the patio where I knew they were. I didn’t want to know if Grant had succumbed to Alicia’s pathetic pleas and gone with her to the gazebo.

  I always knew he had no scruples. But somewhere deep inside, I felt a hollow disappointment as another childish dream dissolved and bitterness hardened like a stone in my heart.

  I crept in through the servants’ entrance at the side of the house and climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor. A round, stained glass window dropped moonlit colors onto the landing but I was oblivious, running on to open the door to the hall and eventually gaining the blessed sanctuary of my own room.

  A
ccording to the clock on the bureau, it was nine-thirty. I sank onto the bed, refusing to give in to my curiosity by peering out the window. I would not let Beacon and its ill-played melodramas interfere with my life.

  With renewed purpose, I went to the desk and pulled my laptop onto it. Ideas for my new novel were beginning to form in my head and I set to work, grateful for the distraction.

  * * * * *

  I awoke late the next morning, refreshed. When I opened my eyes, the sun was streaming through the windows and the smell of fresh coffee filled the room.

  “I thought you might like some breakfast.” Martha bustled about, uncovering dishes on the table near my bed.

  “I haven’t had breakfast in bed since the time I had the measles,” I exclaimed, propping myself up on the pillows and pushing a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. “What’s the occasion?”

  She smiled and lay the tray across my lap. “No occasion. It’s just so nice to have you home again. We’ve missed you here.”

  I was touched and grateful for this one friendly face. After my mother’s death, Martha had ministered to most of my needs. I couldn’t imagine Beacon without her and often wondered how she managed the extensive supervision needed here as well as the additional demands of Spindrift.

  For its size, Beacon had a meager staff. There was Lottie Wilson, the ponderous cook, who worked Wednesday through Sunday and since the death of her husband a few years before, lived alone in a small cottage some five miles away. Rudy Coleman, besides his gardening and handyman duties, doubled as a chauffeur on the odd occasion Leo needed to make a public appearance on this side of the lake.

  Martha ran the entire house with the help of just one part-time maid, a position that constantly changed as the girls came and went from an agency in Ludington. At the moment, the position was vacant since Polly, an eighteen-year-old from Scottville, went away to college. The agency was having trouble locating anyone willing to move to the relative isolation of Beacon.